


Quiet

by akitsuko



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dorks in Love, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24966151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akitsuko/pseuds/akitsuko
Summary: When Oswald makes love to Edward, he's always amazed by how quiet Edward can be.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 15
Kudos: 126





	Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> Just some Sunday smut.

Edward is so quiet when the two of them make love, a stark contrast to his usual self. It's a near constant source of wonder for Oswald. 

Because Edward could talk for America. With his endless riddles, and vaguely relevant bits of trivia, and anecdotes that are somehow never his own, and of course his compulsive need to be  _ noticed _ , times are few and far between that Oswald can actually get him to shut up for a few minutes. 

(Not that Oswald usually minds the sound of Edward's voice. Far from it. But Oswald also occasionally enjoys a few moments of peace.)

Edward's voice is almost as familiar to Oswald as his own, frequently chattering alongside his internal monologue as if there are two people inside his head instead of just one. 

Of course, Edward actually does have two people in his head, although he doesn't know that Oswald knows. But Oswald hears him all the time, talking to himself, one half of a conversation out loud and the other half for Edward's ears only. Edward and Not-Edward. Two halves of a whole, and yet also separate entities. 

Sometimes, Oswald finds it hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. 

The point is, Edward doesn't even need to have a physical listener to be talking. It's endearing, in its own strange way. 

And then when he's not talking, he's somehow still making noise. He hums tuneful melodies while he works. He provides an endless soundtrack to his daily activities in grunts, growls, exclamations and a million meaningless vocalisations that Oswald wishes he could catalogue and decipher. 

Even in his sleep, he snores. 

So it's a novel thing, to experience Edward at his quietest. To watch his mouth fall open and release nothing but a ragged breath in response to Oswald's touch. To see his body speak for him in tensed muscles and quivering limbs. 

Oswald caresses him now, fingertips slotting into the spaces between his ribs, and Edward gulps a breath but says nothing. The heat between them is a simmering presence, the places their bodies aren't touching seeking each other like magnets. It's beautiful, how Edward submits, arching towards Oswald without a thought for pride or dignity. 

And he never says a word. Not even Oswald's name escapes his lips. 

Sometimes he moans, but they're not really moans. They're more like loud breaths, rumblings from deep in his chest that he can't quite bite back. That's alright, because Oswald likes to hear that his attention is appreciated. He aims to draw a few of those almost-sounds from Edward now, sucking love bites into his hips, digging his fingers into his buttocks, dragging his tongue along the length of him. It works, but only just. Oswald has to strain to hear. Looking up from his spot between Edward's thighs, he can see the underside of Edward's chin where he's thrown his head back, and the rapid heaves of his chest. 

One of the things Oswald loves most about taking Edward into his mouth is the visible difficulty Edward has keeping quiet. His toes curl and he writhes, eyes dark and wild and full of everything he wants to say as he grips Oswald's shoulders. 

Oswald has told him, several times, that he doesn't have to be embarrassed or hold himself back during these intimate moments. For some reason, Edward bites his tongue anyway. 

Besides, Oswald feels like he makes enough noise for both of them. He moans deeply while his mouth is full, the vibrations making Edward shiver. The sounds as he sucks and hollows his cheeks are obscene, too loud against the backdrop of Edward's silence but arousing enough that he doesn't care. Edward moves his hips, tiny thrusts against the back of Oswald's throat, and sinks his teeth into his lip. He won't say a word, not  _ yes _ or  _ please  _ or  _ just like that _ . He relies on Oswald reading his body to know what he wants. 

Fortunately, and through necessity, Oswald has achieved a degree of fluency. 

There's a pop, deliberate, as Oswald allows him to slide free, and a wet slap as Edward's cock falls back onto his abdomen. 

Then Edward is obliging as Oswald presses his knees up towards his chest, hooking his arms underneath to keep them there. He may be able to stay quiet, but Oswald can't help whimpering at the sight before him; Edward is hard and wanting and exposed and absolutely delectable. 

Still, only a shuddering gasp escapes him as Oswald parts his cheeks further with both hands, leaning in to ghost his breath teasingly across the puckered flesh therein. It doesn't matter, not really. Oswald throws himself into his task regardless, swiping his tongue over that most sensitive area, delighting in the buck of Edward's hips against him. He seals his lips over the rim, firm and wet and messy, and closes his eyes as he buckles down. 

His oral assault soon has Edward trembling, head thrashing side to side, half crazed. He flutters with his tongue, sometimes pointing it to dip just past the twitching ring of muscle. Sometimes, Edward comes just from this, but that's not what Oswald wants today, so he reluctantly pulls back when his jaw begins to ache. 

Edward's breathing begins to regulate again, less erratic with each passing second. He holds his position while his throat works and his arms tremble. Oswald has mercy; he's not a monster, after all. 

He fingers Edward open only as much as he needs to. Though he watches Edward's face for signs of discomfort, because he knows Edward won't tell him if it hurts, all he sees is desperation and the strain of holding himself back. 

One day, perhaps he will be able to make Edward scream. It would really be something to hear that loss of control. Would Edward make  _ oh _ and  _ ah  _ sounds, or would he use his words? Jumbled pleas for more and declarations of love and lust. Maybe a combination of both, sprinkled with Oswald's name for good measure. 

The thought makes Oswald's cock twitch. 

Slick with lube, finally, he lifts Edward's hips and presses himself inside, slowly slowly  _ slowly _ until Edward is full with him. He groans, low under his breath, as he looks down to where they're connected. This will never get old. Edward's mouth hangs open, lax, and his eyes are slightly crossed and unseeing behind his glasses. He may never say so in the moment, but Oswald knows he loves the stretch and the feeling of being taken. 

How glorious he is. 

Oswald builds quickly to a rough pace, a litany of  _ Ed  _ and  _ fuck  _ and  _ oh god  _ falling from his lips. The angle allows for deep penetration. Edward is tight and hot, accepting it all like this is what he was made for. Sweat beads on his skin as his fingers bruise Edward's hips where he holds them up, warm pleasure coiling low in his belly. And Edward, Edward keeps his legs lifted, glazed expression fixed on Oswald like he's a deity, tiny grunts forced out of him with every hard thrust. 

When Oswald comes, it's with Edward's name and a thousand endearments spilling from his mouth. And Edward is close too, he can feel it in the pulsing muscles milking his orgasm from him, so he lets go of one hip to jerk Edward's cock instead, and Edward's whole body tenses. He silently screams then grits his teeth, eyes clenching shut tight as his release coats Oswald's fingers and his own stomach. 

They collapse together, breathing heavily. Oswald feels himself slip out as he softens, but he makes no effort to move from atop Edward, and Edward seems content to let him stay where he is. 

And now the spell breaks, Edward moaning out a loud exhale. "I think I died a little bit, there."

His voice is a tad scratchy. He clears his throat, probably an attempt to make himself sound more normal. 

Oswald chuckles, the sound reverberating through them both. "As if you would let yourself die without any magnificent last words."

Edward holds him close, and he laughs too. 


End file.
